


Light Up the Trenches

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Confessions, Danger, F/M, Miscommunication, One Shot, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: He doesn’t want to be asked questions he can’t answer. Is that so wrong? Yes, okay, he and Brett talk a lot. More and more frequently as time goes on, actually. But he doesn’t know what that meansto her. He’s come to terms with what he feels for Sylvie. He knows it’s not platonic. He crossed that line a long time ago. The problem is that accepting what he feels and doing something about it are two separate issues.She’s been through a lot this year and the last thing he would want is to pile on. Plus, if he makes a move and she doesn’t have feelings for him then their friendship might never be the same. He likely wouldn’t get to be there for her like he has been lately and it’s important to him to be able to support her. He’d rather maintain the status quo than push the envelope and lose her.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 69
Kudos: 183





	Light Up the Trenches

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So, I had this idea (I won’t say where I got it because...well spoilers) and the more I thought about it the more I just HAD to write it. Which means you guys get another one shot when I _should_ be working on g/r/r, haha.
> 
> Anyway, hopefully you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> xoxo
> 
> PS - I have not proofread this so forgive any typos. (I did spell check it but that only catches so much.)

******

_“But your eyes like midnight fireflies,_

_Light up the trenches where my heart lies,_

_Until I can see again,_

_Find my way back again._

_Cause I'm a train wreck,_

_Waiting to happen,_

_Waiting for someone to come pick me up off the tracks.”_

_-“Train Wreck” by Sarah McLachlan_

******

“I know I agreed to cover ambo today, Captain, but do I have to cover it with Rafferty?” Kidd asks him as she leans against the doorway to his quarters. “She’s got a stick up her ass that needs to be surgically removed, I think. I thought I was gonna be on it with Brett.”

“Rafferty’s a good medic,” Casey assures her. “Give it a chance. And you _were_ going to cover it with Brett but she took the day off at the last minute to help Scott with the last of the move back to Rockford. She said she’s leading the moving truck so Scott doesn’t have to take Amelia on a two hour drive.”

Stella smirks and lifts a brow at him, looking extremely smug.

“What?” He asks her in confusion. “What did I say?”

“When did Brett say this to you? Because I talked to her yesterday afternoon and heard about none of this.”

“We talked last night. She called me after she called Boden.”

Stella’s still smirking at him and for the life of him he can’t figure out why.

“What?” He asks again, with more irritability this time.

“Nothing,” she says, holding her hands up in front of her in a gesture of surrender. “Just curious.”

“About?”

“How often do you and Brett talk, exactly?”

He gives her a flat look and heaves a tired sigh. “Don’t you have work to do? Inventory, maybe?”

She chuckles and gives him a sarcastic salute. “Ay, ay, Captain. I’ll table the questions for later.”

“Or never,” he says to her retreating back.

He doesn’t want to be asked questions he can’t answer. Is that so wrong? Yes, okay, he and Brett talk a lot. More and more frequently as time goes on, actually. But he doesn’t know what that means _to her_. He’s come to terms with what he feels for Sylvie. He knows it’s not platonic. He crossed that line a long time ago. The problem is that accepting what he feels and doing something about it are two separate issues.

She’s been through a lot this year and the last thing he would want is to pile on. Plus, if he makes a move and she doesn’t have feelings for him then their friendship might never be the same. He likely wouldn’t get to be there for her like he has been lately and it’s important to him to be able to support her. He’d rather maintain the status quo than push the envelope and lose her.

For now, at least. Maybe he’ll grow a pair eventually and ask for what he wants, but then...he’s always been terrible at that. Every time he’s asked for something for himself he’s been rejected. Over and over again. It makes it hard to believe this time might be different.

He pushes thoughts of Sylvie away and focuses on his paperwork. It’s the worst part of being a Captain but at least it gives him a distraction when life gets too complicated.

Sometime later, he’s lost track of how long, Severide barges through his open door and sets a plate down on his desk. Toast, fruit, hard and crunchy bacon (obviously cooked a while ago). He grimaces but takes the plate.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Severide says with a snort. “You missed breakfast. This is the best I could do with the options I had.”

“Missed breakfast? How long have I been in here?” He asks, rubbing his eyes and glancing down at his watch. “Jesus, it’s already eleven?”

“You’ve been MIA for nearly 3 hours,” Severide replies with a knowing grin. “This cause Brett’s off today?”

“No,” he answers, more defensively than necessary. “I’m behind on paperwork, that’s all.”

“Okay, chill,” Severide replies with a muted chuckle. “I believe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Matt quips with an eyeroll.

“No, I don’t,” Severide mimics, smirking crookedly. “What’s going on with the two of you anyway?”

“Hell if I know,” Matt says as he leans back in his chair. “I feel like I can’t get a good read on what she’s thinking or feeling. Not about me, at least. About Julie? Scott and Amelia? Foster? Yeah, I can read those signals. But when it comes to me? I might as well be blind.”

“Maybe instead of trying to _read_ her, you should _talk_ to her,” Severide suggests with a sarcastic grin and a shrug. “Just a thought.”

“Or I could avoid thinking about any of it until she gives me some sort of sign,” Matt says, knowing he sounds like a chickenshit coward.

“Yeah, but what if she’s waiting for you to give her a sign and eventually gives up? I mean, she ran off with the Chaplain last year. You really want history to repeat itself? And don’t lie to me because I saw your face after that proposal,” Severide says with a pointed quirk of his eyebrow. “Man up and make a move. Before it’s too late.”

He’s about to argue. With some pathetic excuse about wrecking the friendship he’s built with her, but the bells go off before he can. 

It’s an “all units respond” call which immediately has them all preparing for the worst. They run for the rigs and once inside they’re told the intersection and a few vague details. It’s a train derailment at a track crossing. So, they know right off the bat the scene will combine a train accident with a multi-vehicle pile up. Both are messy and volatile with mass victims and ever evolving risks.

51 is the first on scene. Mouch gets the rig as close as they can get it, perpendicular to the tangle of cars in front of the crossing. The train impacted directly into the middle of them. They get to work clearing the vehicles first.

They’re ten minutes in when Casey spots a U-haul truck and feels ice cold terror zinging through his veins. He breaks away from his Truck crew, darting between the wrecked cars without a second thought. He briefly registers Gallo calling out to him and chooses to dismiss it. He has a terrible sinking feeling in his gut and he needs to know if he’s paranoid or not. Maybe his imagination is running away with him.

When he gets closer, he knows it’s not.

The U-haul truck rear ended a silver sedan causing it to hit the car in front of it. That silver sedan is Sylvie’s. There’s a jeep barely impacting the driver’s side but it’s enough to keep it from opening. The passenger side door is sitting wide open, and the trunk looks like it was popped open from the outside. He runs for the passenger side door, finding the car completely empty. Sylvie’s phone is sitting cracked and broken in the passenger side floorboard, most likely abandoned when she crawled over the seat.

He spins and cranes his neck from left right, glancing through the chaos for her but never once spotting the blonde head he desperately wants to find. He points to the two guys standing next to the moving truck.

“There was a blonde in this car, right? Sylvie Brett?”

The taller of the two nods, looking lost and confused. He has a large bump on his head and Matt wonders if he might be concussed. Just as he’s ready to give up waiting for an answer, the man speaks.

“Yeah, she had me use the crowbar to pop open her trunk, grabbed a bag, and took off toward the train. Had me call 9-1-1,” he says holding up his undamaged phone.

“Was she hurt?” Matt asks, demandingly. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so? I mean she had a couple of cuts and bruises and she took off pretty quick so I didn’t get a good look, but she seemed okay. Said she was a paramedic.”

“She is,” Matt says before he nods gratefully. “Thanks. You should make your way toward the firetruck. Ambulance is just behind us. They’ll check you out.”

Matt leans into his radio, pressing the button to talk as the men walk away. “Brett’s on site. Her car’s on the edge of the pile up. A couple of guys here say they saw her take off toward the train.”

“We’re making our way toward the front of the train now. We’ll keep an eye out,” Severide’s voice calls over the speaker. “If we see her we’ll spread the word.”

As Matt makes his way back to his truck crew, he analyzes what he’s learned. Sylvie was well enough to crawl out of the vehicle without assistance and present enough to want to help. Why else would she run toward the train? All the evidence he has suggests she’s fine. She _has_ to be fine.

Right now, he has a job to do and he can’t afford any more distractions.

“You alright, Captain?” Mouch asks, worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s start clearing these cars. We need to make room for more companies to get through. If this wreck turns hot we’re gonna need as many hoses as we can get.”

“Already on it,” Mouch says with a nod. 

Once they get a handle on the pile up and make more room for more rigs, Matt and his guys head toward the overturned train car. Other companies have already gotten a control on other escalating situations. So far he’s overheard a struggle to turn off the electricity on one of the rails and a possible sparking vehicle underneath the train. More problems are bound to arise as they go along. He’s come to expect this. 

They’re short on medics due to the sheer number of victims so his guys are handed a huge stack of triage tags and told to make their way through the train cars until they’re needed for something else. 

“Should be easy,” Desmond tells him as he shoves the tags into Matt’s hands. “Seems like Brett already went through and marked a lot of them.” Matt feels pride swelling in his chest and it only grows when Desmond smirks at him, a crackle of amusement breaking through the grim circumstances, and explains. “With lipstick and eyeliner. If you see a G on their foreheads they get a green tag, Y a yellow tag, R a red tag. If you see a black X they get a black tag. Honestly, best we can do for black tags is make them comfortable. Not sure how long it’ll be before more ambos arrive for transport. Call out if you come across anything urgent.”

Matt nods and repeats the instructions to his crew before sending them in different directions. Gallo will go with him toward the back and Mouch and the others will stay in the front.

“Hey,” Matt calls to Desmond as he starts to walk away. “Anybody actually gotten eyes on Sylvie yet?”

Desmond’s brow quirks at him with a small grin and that’s when Matt realizes he said _Sylvie_ not _Brett_. He bites back a wince and holds his ground, deciding to ignore his slip. 

“No, not yet,” Desmond answers. “But there are medics in the middle car now and her triaging goes at least that far back. You’ll probably catch up with her if you’re heading straight to the back of the train.”

 _Good_. He’s been assuring himself she’s okay, but he’d feel a lot better if he had visual confirmation.

He and Gallo begin making their way through the wreckage. The cars are all tilted at slightly different angles due to how they landed on the tracks. It takes a bit of climbing to get through safely. They pass a medic or a firefighter here and there but none of them are Sylvie.

They’ve reached the second to last car with still no sign of her and he’s starting to worry.

The last car is half on and half off the track. As far as he’s heard it’s stable despite it’s precarious position and since it’s the luggage car he hopes it stays that way. On it’s own a piece of luggage isn’t a scary thing, but if a whole wall of them crashes on top of a person it won’t end well.

“Captain!” Gallo shouts, tapping Matt’s shoulder and pointing ahead of them. “Is that Brett?”

His head whips around and, sure enough, Sylvie stands on the other side of the door between the cars. It’s wide open and beckoning him to her. 

She’s kneeling in front of a young guy in a uniform. He looks like he’s about Gallo’s age. Maybe a baggage handler. Her hands are carefully wrapping his leg, rolling the gauze around a piece glass sticking out of his shin. She’s smiling kindly despite the cut on her along her hairline and the purple bruise on her chin. He can make out a few lacerations on her arms and what looks like a fabric burn on her neck. All signs of a fender bender. Nothing life threatening.

Somehow, even littered in cuts and bruises, she’s a sight for sore eyes and he has no choice but to stare.

As he’s breathing a sigh of relief, both cars suddenly jolt to the left. The door between his car and Sylvie’s slams shut amidst the jerky movements and he can just make out a flash of blonde hair as Sylvie’s knocked off balance.

“Fuck,” Matt curses under his breath. He hurriedly grabs his radio. “We need a rescue at the rear of the train. Baggage car is unstable and leaning off the track. At least two people inside.” The car he and Gallo are in jerks again causing a panicked scream amongst the passengers surrounding them. “It’s still attached to the rest of the train, if it goes it’s taking the next car along with it. Too many passengers with too many untreated wounds, not gonna have enough time to evacuate.”

“Squad 3 on our way, sit tight, Casey.”

“Gallo,” Casey orders. “Start getting these people moved to the next car. _Now_.”

Gallo nods and takes several steps away before he registers Casey isn’t following him.

“Captain?” Gallo asks, sounding wary. “What are _you_ going to do?”

“Just get the people out of the car,” he says again, marching forward to the door between the cars. “That’s a direct order. _Copy_?”

Gallo sighs as if he’s thinking of refusing, but reluctantly nods instead. “Copy that.”

Matt tries the door but it’s jammed. He huffs and slams his halligan against the bolt, knocking it with his fist to wedge it between the door and the jamb. He focuses on that weak point and slams his shoulder into the door. It slides open with force and even that little bit force causes the car to lurch again.

He reaches the kid first. He’s conscious but groaning in pain, having landed violently against a hard metal trunk. Matt scoops a hand under his shoulders.

“I’m gonna pull you up. Can you stand?”

“Yeah, yeah. I think so.”

Matt lifts at the same time the boy pushes. It takes more of his core strength with the car sitting on an incline but he manages to push the kid through the door. “There’s a firefighter in the next car. He’ll get you out. Anyone else in here beside the medic who was helping you?”

“No. There’s no one else. Is she okay?” 

Matt swallows thickly but keeps his gaze focused on the victim. He hasn’t had a chance to really look around yet so he can’t say for sure. “I’ve got her, you get out of here. Go.”

Only once Sylvie’s patient has gotten himself clear of the car does Matt let his eyes scan the cluttered space. Suitcases and duffle bags and backpacks have fallen on top of the space where Sylvie should have fallen, but he can’t see her.

“Brett, call out,” Matt says in a raised voice, hoping she’s still conscious.

He hears a moan and shuffling to his right and climbs down toward it, carefully shifting bags as he goes. A small backpack tumbles down to his feet and his eyes automatically find the space it created. In that hole he sees a lone slender hand.

“Sylvie!” He yells as he grabs a hold of it. “You alright?”

He moves a few bags until he can see her face. She winces and breathes deeply. He can see the pain in her expression.

“I think so,” she replies. “But there’s a steel suitcase pressing on my chest. Not exactly easy to breath.”

“Okay, alright, I got you. Stay still,” he assures her. 

He hesitates to let go of her hand, but he knows he needs to if he’s going to dig her out. He feels like he’s playing a high stakes game of Jenga. One wrong move and he risks making things worse instead of better. He finally reaches the silver steel case and unwedges it from where it was pressing against her. It’s the final piece to freeing her. He bends down to reach her, stabilizing her neck with one hand while wrapping his other arm around her waist securely.

“Grab onto me,” he tells her. “I’m gonna try and lift you without jostling you. Just in case you're hurt more seriously than we think.”

The second he feels her arms around his midsection he lifts. Once upright, he presses her head against his chests and shifts his arms. One arm bands under her knees and the other across her back so he’s cradling her against his chest.

“Hold on,” he warns her. “The car’s not stable and I’ve got a few obstacles to climb over to get us out.”

Her arms tighten around him and, even though they’re in a delicate situation, he feels more at peace than he has since spotting her sedan in the pile up hours earlier. She’s in his arms, she’s intact. _She’s safe_.

He has one foot in the next car when the train starts to rattle and groan. He quickens his steps, running through the second to last car until he reaches level ground. Squad has cut the third car free of the last two and Gallo cleared all the civilians out. They’re trying to stabilize the cars but judging by the chatter on the radio it’s a lost cause. He sets Brett down in an empty passenger seat and the second he does the baggage car topples over, taking the last passenger car with it.

The noise is nearly unbearable. If only because it reminds him of how close he came to losing Sylvie. Had he and Gallo been even a second later, she could have--

“You okay?” Matt asks the current object of his thoughts while kneeling in front of her.

She does a quick assessment of her own injuries. She slowly moves her neck up and down and from side to side, feels a hand over her abdomen and neck, and then stretches her arms and legs.

“Just a little sore everywhere,” she tells him. “No pain restricting my movements or breathing, no swelling or stiffness.” She gives him a relieved smile, blowing out a calming breath. “I’m okay. You?”

“If you’re good then I’m good,” he tells her honestly.

“I’m glad you showed up when you did. Thank you, Matt,” Sylvie says, throwing herself at him in a fierce hug. “I don’t wanna think about what might have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

Neither does he, but he can’t seem to stop. He could have lost her. And not just moving to Fowlerton to get married lost her. _Really_ lost her.

“We should get back to clearing the train,” she tells him before turning a critical eye on Gallo. “You okay?”

He’s been so focused on Sylvie, he didn’t notice the worried look on his candidate’s face.

Gallo nods. “Yeah, but there’s this kid over here—“

Sylvie cuts him off by springing into action. “Take me to him. Let’s get a look. If more ambos don’t show up soon we may have to break some protocols and transport people in buggies or other non essential rigs. These people need doctors.”

And just like that it’s business as usual. Casey leaves Gallo with Sylvie so she has access to a radio. When the medics arrived earlier they all decided to let Sylvie run point until an Ambulance Commander arrived on scene.

Matt gets called away from the train to address a civilian trapped in a vehicle with Severide and Squad. While they work Sylvie’s voice over the radio keeps him present and grounded. She’s issuing orders for anyone with a parked rig, that isn’t holding essential supplies or equipment, to prepare to transport as many green or yellow tagged victims as they can. 

He’s working and she’s working and they’re not interacting with each other but just the reminder that she’s alive and well does wonders for his demeanor.

An Ambulance Commander finally makes it to the scene, relieving Sylvie of command. He takes over where she left off, organizing transport and prioritizing who _needs_ an ambulance to move and who doesn’t.

The next time he spots Sylvie is back by her car, chatting into someone’s phone and with the recently bandaged movers. No doubt telling Scott what’s happened. She hands the phone back to the movers. The truck barely has a scratch on it so he’s not surprised when the movers get in and drive away. It’s nearly three now and if they’re going to beat the traffic they’ll have to leave.

He watches her sigh with slumped shoulders as she reviews the damage to her car. His crew towed it out of the way of the scene so it’s not boxed in by other vehicles anymore. Things are wrapping up with the civilians and victims. They’re waiting to start clean up until the scene is clear so he decides he has time to check in.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches.

“Hey,” she repeats, tossing a dry smile at him. “This is really just the cherry on top of a banner year for me. Don’t you think?”

“Well, it could be worse, I guess,” he supplies, mirroring her smile.

“Yeah,” she agrees, glancing toward the train. “I could have been in that baggage car when it rolled off the track.”

“But you weren’t,” he says in an effort to remind her as much as himself.

“Thanks to you,” she points out, eyes softening on his.

He grins but shrugs dismissively. “Right place, right time. That’s all. Besides, it’s kinda my job.”

Her gaze drifts from his and her smile dims slightly. He knows he’s said something wrong but he can’t quite figure it out. He mentally kicks himself and wishes he had the balls to just ask her what’s on her mind. Kelly’s right. He should _say_ something -- do something. He almost lost her to the Chaplain last year and now a train derailment. What exactly has to happen for him to get off his ass and make a move?

She swallows thickly and nods. “Right, your job. Of course. I should call a tow. I’m sure my car’s a lost cause but I should at least make an attempt to save it.”

“You should, but your phone’s busted,” he reminds her.

She groans and curses under her breath. “True.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his turnout coat and hands her his phone. “Use mine. Plus, if you’ll hang around till after clean up we’ll give you a ride home in the Truck,” he offers. “Sound good?”

“Yeah,” she says, with a forced smile. “Thanks, Casey.”

 _Casey_. She called him _Casey_. She hasn’t done that in a while. Not unless they’re in the middle of work.

Shit. What was it? What did he say?

He leaves her by her car, feeling confused and berating himself.

They clean up the scene as best they can. Some of the wreckage will have to be moved by the city after they clear out. He keeps one eye on Sylvie. Her car is picked up and towed away just as they’re wrapping up. She meets them at 81, smiles halfheartedly at him, and hands him back his phone.

“Thanks,” she says before climbing in the rig. 

She sits in the seat behind him and stays silent the entire ride. The only things he hears her say are responses to a series of questions from Mouch. Is she still feeling okay? Should they take her to the house instead so Rafferty can check her out? Or maybe drop her at Med? She assures him she’s fine.

“I just want to go home and shower and sleep,” she answers. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“I bet so,” Mouch replies, throwing a teasing grin over his shoulder as he drives. “Never seen anybody triage with lipstick before. You angling for a promotion or a commendation or something?”

Matt hears her quiet laugh behind him and he can’t help but smile. She’s been pensive since their talk and hearing her laugh makes him feel like less of an ass -- even if he still doesn’t know what he did or said.

“I wasn’t but now that you mention it,” she begins with a smirk, while meeting Mouch’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Commander Brett _does_ have a nice ring to it. Don’t you think?”

She’s joking. He knows she’s joking.

But it’s not a joke to him. He can see it.

And it’s sexy as _hell_.

The truck parks outside of Herrmann’s place and Sylvie steps out. 

“See you guys next shift,” she tells them before shutting the door. “Thanks for the ride!”

Mouch and Gallo glance at Casey expectantly. Mouch keeps the truck running and parked even as Sylvie’s walking up Herrmann’s driveway.

“You gonna go apologize for whatever it is that you said?” Mouch asks him, gesturing toward Brett’s retreating form.

Matt stares at him, mouth agape in shock, and Mouch scoffs.

“I know, Brett,” Mouch says in response to Matt’s shock. “She’s upset and since you were the last person to talk to her alone and the only person she was pointedly ignoring it _has_ to have been you.”

Gallo nods his agreement. “You jumped into a falling train car for her, Captain. Are you really gonna let her walk away with whatever that was in between you?”

Jesus, he must be obvious if _Mouch_ and _Gallo_ can read him that easily. More to the point, they’re also _right_. He can’t let this lie. It’s just now five in the afternoon. He’s still on shift for another fourteen hours. Imagining himself spending the next fourteen hours wondering what happened is torture.

“No,” he answers with steely determination. “I’m not.”

He ignores the high-five Gallo and Mouch exchange as he jumps out of the truck and dumps his turn out coat in the front seat. They’ll give him hell for it when he gets back but right now he can’t bring himself to care.

He follows after her, taking long forceful strides, and catches up just as she reaches the door.

“Wait a minute,” he says as he stops behind her. “What did I do? I said something you didn’t like. What was it?”

Sylvie stops with her hand on the doorknob, takes a deep breath, and turns to face him. The smile on her face is wide but false. By now, he knows her actual smile by heart. That’s not it.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Sylvie says, feigning carelessness with a shrug.

“Sylvie,” Matt pleads with a furrowed brow. “Something’s wrong and I _need_ to know what it is. I don’t like being in the dark. Not if there’s a chance I can fix it or explain it.”

Her smile falls, revealing an honest and conflicted expression. His heart lurches in his chest at the sight of her pain, the way it has for the last couple of years. The way it probably will for the rest of his life.

“What are we — to each other, I mean?” She asks before biting her bottom lip and unintentionally drawing his attention to it. “Are we coworkers? Friends? Something else entirely? I can’t get a solid sense of what you want, and I’m just...I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling guilty and overthinking everything. Tired of trying _not_ to think about yo—”

He’s not sure what comes over him, but before she finishes whatever speech she has planned his lips crash down on hers. His hands are cradling her jaw, thumbs tenderly stroking her cheeks. She lets out a surprised squeak that quickly turns into a satisfied moan as she lets herself relax against him. Her hands find his wrists and hold them tightly while she slowly parts her lips under the pressure of his insistent kiss. The minute she opens her mouth to him, he doesn’t dare hesitate. He deepens the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers.

They reluctantly pull apart when breathing becomes an issue. Matt keeps his forehead pressed to hers and focuses a giddy grin on her while he catches his breath. 

“I’m tired of trying not to think about you too,” he admits. “And as for what we are, I think the only answer is _something else entirely._ I will always want to be your friend, Sylvie, but that’s not _enough_ anymore. Not for me.”

A genuine smile spreads across her mouth. It’s the kind that lights up her entire face and nearly blinds him with it’s beauty. It’s the sort of smile she hasn’t had much opportunity for lately. Hopefully, he can change that.

“Being your friend isn’t enough for me either,” she assures him, somehow looking even more radiant while repeating his words.

The radio on his shoulder chooses that moment to crackle to life, alerting him to another call. He groans pathetically and closes his eyes. “Not now. Anytime but _now_.”

She chuckles and steals one last quick kiss. “Come see me when your shift is over,” she tells him. “We’ll talk more _then_. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees before forcing himself to step away from her. He narrows his eyes, skeptically. “Are we good?”

Her cheeks are flushed and dimpled as she nods and beams enthusiastically at him. “Yeah, Matt, we’re definitely good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yes, she certainly will, and it can’t come fast enough. He’s through wasting chances and squandering time, he thinks as he sprints back to 81. 

He’s ready to move forward and he can’t think of anyone better to move forward _with_ than Sylvie Brett.


End file.
